


the loneliness you love

by trevino



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Multi, mention of past cases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trevino/pseuds/trevino
Summary: a character study into grief, through the eyes of reid and morgan; first as they mourn and heal separately, and then together- because when it feels like you’re drowning in losses, sometimes it’s worth having someone else to cling to in the sea.(title taken from franz wright's poem 'to myself')
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/William LaMontagne Jr., Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	1. elle

**Author's Note:**

> hi!  
> so, this is a work i've been thinking about for a while, exploring how reid and morgan deal with their grief as a result of the loss of members of the bau team. i've included a rough outline on who i'm planning on including in the ending notes, but if there's another character you'd like to see me focus on, please comment and let me know!
> 
> this is an eventual derek morgan/spencer reid relationship fic, though the focus will still be on the grieving process. the other relationships listed in the tags will primarily be in the background.

###  **elle**

Agent Greenaway kills a man, with very little remorse and with even less to say about it, and she leaves the team. 

~

Derek wonders why she did it- so many  _ why _ s, about why she shot that man (despite him being a rapist, there was  _ always _ a better way), about why she never talked to any of them about it, about why she turned in her badge and gun and walked away.

He’s not too ashamed to admit that he also wonders why she never said goodbye- at least to him.

The two profilers had never been extraordinarily close, him and Elle, but they had built up a decent level of friendship through banter in the office and ultimately-harmless jokes at Reid’s expense. In the months after her ambush at the hands of Randall Garner, the Fisher King unsub, he had spent many late nights on the phone with her, convincing her that no one would try to break into her house at 3 in the morning. He tried, at the very least, to be there for her.

Selfishly, too, he always felt like they had their own bond- the dead dads club, by sharing the memory of their own cop fathers that were killed in the line of duty. In all fairness, he hated the similarity between them- hated that  _ either one _ of them had to know the pain of losing your father so young.

But there was also something nice- if not depressing in its own way- about knowing that someone else knew what it was like, for your hero to fall before your very eyes. 

It was nice, even for a moment, to not be alone in those waves of inexplicable sorrow. 

She’s not gone, not really. Morgan heard through the grapevine at the FBI Academy that she had unofficially retired and moved back to New York (Queens, if he remembered correctly) to be closer to her mother and aunt. They were the only family she had, after her dad passed.

Morgan looks fondly at the photos of his mother, Fran, and sisters Desi and Sarah, when he thinks of Elle, and fights back the urge to call his mom just to hear her voice. It’s late, already past 1 in the morning in DC time, and though it’s only midnight in Chicago, he doesn’t want to wake her up.

So he mourns her in his own way, though he doubts she would be happy to see him do even that.

_ It’s not like she’s around to tell me otherwise _ , he thinks bitterly to himself.

He finds himself, an hour later, at the corner bar, a half-empty mixed drink in hand and two fine young women hanging off his other arm. They dance, and he can almost hear Elle’s voice in his head, poking fun at him for the attention he always received at clubs and urging him to choose a lady to take home for the night.

She always did enable his bad decisions, and in the end he wonders if that’s part of why she left. He wishes he had asked her, or done something more to change it- stop her from pulling the trigger, if he could’ve (though he can already hear Reid warning him against that train of circular reasoning). But he lets the word drift off into space as he dances, hoping that the music is loud enough to dull the pounding that resonates, echoes deep in his skull and through his veins. 

It’s almost closing time, but somehow he can’t bear to leave until the place almost empties out. He and Elle always stayed until the end, if they hadn’t found other people to go home with by that point. They’d wait until it got light outside, grab breakfast on the way back to the bus stop to sober up, and pass out in their respective beds and hope to get even a modicum of sleep before JJ or Hotch called them in for a case.

This time, he doesn’t quite think sleep will be enough to escape from how rotten he feels inside.

He leaves the bar, realizing how dry his mouth is- he barely said a word all night, even to the women who had their hands on him. 

It’s too late, or too early, and Morgan’s just left wondering why.

~

Reid blames himself, when Elle leaves.

He spends hours, probably days even, thinking and re-thinking over every interaction they had ever had in the two years that they worked together. Sometimes he curses his eidetic memory, because there are definitely things he’d quite like to forget, but it helps, now, to revisit the time they spent together.

It’s nice knowing that, even if she’s no longer part of the team, he’ll never really forget the moments they shared (even if so many of them involved her teasing him in some way). 

But it doesn’t feel quite as good when he reflects on the past trying to understand what happened, what went wrong to make her leave.

She’s the first member of the team that leaves, and the nagging part of Reid’s brain (that he wishes he could shut up almost daily) warns him sourly that  _ she won’t be the last _ . Perhaps that’s what he’s most afraid of- not just the loss of Elle, since at least she’s just gone and note dead, but the realization that he’s young, and other members of his team are less so.

The fact that he will likely live to see more of them leave is one that he has plenty of statistics for, but he wishes he didn’t.

And he can, though it’s not exactly a painless process, understand why she left. She was never the same after the Fisher King case- who would be, after being shot and having her blood used as finger paints for a psychopath? 

It wasn’t just that, though. He knows it was likely the serial rapist case in Dayton, Ohio, that was the trigger point for her departure. Hotch and Gideon never told the rest of the team exactly what happened, but Reid’s a smart kid- he put the pieces together, and he’s fairly certain that JJ and Morgan did too, at least to some degree. 

In his own reconstruction of events, he knows that she shot their unsub when she staked out his house, and she claimed it was self-defense, but from the way that Gideon spoke about it, he knows that that statement was less concrete and more wishful thinking in case it was ever mentioned to a judge. He knows that she had been unstable ever since her own shooting less than six months prior, and he knows that she wasn’t supposed to be outside that night.

He also knows that Hotch was angry at her, furious even.

The older man rarely showed his emotions, good or bad, but when he spoke about Elle, his face tightened up and his eyebrows clenched even tighter (if that was possible). 

So he knows that it wasn’t good, the way in which Elle left their tight-knit team. They weren’t close- and he shudders to think at how he’d react if they had been, because after watching his own father walk out on them and his mother be institutionalized years later, he knows he’s already not good with letting people go. 

But her leaving changes things, in so many ways, and if there’s anything Reid hates more than loss, it’s change. 

Reid copes with the tightness in his chest by reading- he reads their old case files, pausing frequently on their time held hostage in the train together, and remembers. He reads about PTSD, and grief, and moving on.

He reads, and he hopes he’ll find the words, buried deep inside all the books spread around him on his living room floor, to explain away the feelings that he can’t quite comprehend.


	2. gideon (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my guilt has overwhelmed me, like a burden too heavy to bear (psalm 38)  
> (inspiration drawn from a marimba solo by brian blume: "...like a burden too heavy to bear")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it dawned on me that gideon technically has two departures from the team (one far more permanent than the other), so this will actually be a part one, followed by a part two that references gideon's "departure" in season 10. 
> 
> this, however, is a reflection on gideon stepping away from the bau team. still not a loss of a team member because of death, though we're getting there in our own convoluted way.
> 
> as always, i thrive on feedback and comments!

Agent Jason Gideon leaves, with little more than a note to mark his departure. It’s sudden, and somehow not entirely unexpected, but it leaves them all hurting just the same.

~

Morgan is unsure how to feel, when he learns that Gideon has surrendered his badge and gun, aside a letter addressed solely to Dr. Spencer Reid. 

Confusion, though, is what sticks in his mind above everything else. There’s sadness, too, but it’s a feeling he can’t quite explain, can’t quite comprehend, so he pushes it down. The jealousy causes him shame, so he forces himself to ignore it completely.

Every member of the team has faced losses, as Gideon did when Frank Breitkopf killed his long-time lover Sarah. Derek had stood aside, observing, as Elle was shot and later departed the team after killing an unsub without just cause, as Spencer was kidnapped and tortured ( _ and drugged _ , his brain reminds him, causing every muscle in his body to tighten at the painful memory), and as they all dealt with their skeptical trust of new team member Emily Prentiss.

He had watched as they all felt pain, and happiness, and uncertainty. And largely, he hadn’t interacted with those emotions, at least not on the level of his fellow profilers.

The loss of Elle hurt, certainly. But at the same time, he hated her for it. Hated the person she became- not even the killing part, but her refusal to ever communicate how she felt after she was shot. So, on some level, he ignored the stinging feeling in his chest when he thought about her.

The loss of Reid was different, especially since they could see almost everything that happened to him in real-time via Tobias Hankel’s video streams. That one hurt him to the core, knowing that he was so powerless. But Reid came back, far from healed, and he turned his attention to helping the younger man cope instead of missing what he lost.

Prentiss’s arrival had puzzled him, certainly. She seemed to exist on the very outskirts of their team, and he wasn’t quite sure if that was their doing or her own. He wasn’t sure what to do, caught between wanting to keep “business as usual” or make her feel welcome, so he settled into an uneasy place in between.

Gideon, however, was different. Because he was long gone, and at the same time, felt so out of reach.

But he could hear his voice, sometimes, when he stepped onto crime scenes- urging him to put himself into the mind of the killer, or rapist, or whatever unsub has reached the apex of their case. 

So he did- with Gideon’s words echoing in his brain about “humanizing killers.” (Reid had recounted that conversation to him, one night as they both shared stories about Gideon over pizza and spilled bottles of beer. It was one of the first times he and Reid had really felt close, in the wake of Gideon’s disappearance, and it bothered him to the core that it took such a tragedy to bring the team together in ways that hadn’t previously been possible.) He found a way to think like the unsubs, because it almost felt like Gideon was by his side, doing the very same thing.

He never quite understood how Gideon could do it, how he could look at a crime scene and just  _ know _ things that would take the rest of them hours to puzzle out and understand. It made the job easier, more cut-and-dry on some levels. Gideon was always one step ahead of them, and often falling in step with the unsub that they struggled to find. It was incredible, really, if not alarming in its own right.

Morgan didn’t admire him in the way Reid did, or trust him in the way Hotch did. He appreciated the man’s insight, though he always remembered the moment in which he had not-so-subtly called out the older man’s “nervous breakdowns” within earshot of Gideon himself. 

It made him laugh to think about- all those small moment where Gideon felt less like some sort of unreachable hero and more like a human- so he held onto that instead.

~

Spencer turns the letter over and over in his hands for hours before reading it for the first time. He knows that once he does, he’ll never be able to forget the words that his mentor wrote for him, and selfishly, he’s enjoying the moment of solace before that happens. 

He knows, too, that reading Gideon’s words to him will only remind of the time, so long ago, that Gideon’s words gave him something to hold onto when he had nothing left. When he sat, tied to a chair in the barn at Marshall Parish- when Gideon’s voice transmitted through the computer screen and it helped him to stay alive.

This time, he knows, it won’t feel like salvation to read his words.

Reid’s alone in the cabin, hoping to feel some hint of Gideon’s presence around him, though it never comes. And even the first line of the letter hurts too much, the raw honesty in the words that the older man wrote for him.

_ Spencer, I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me _ …

As always, Gideon’s right, even when he’s not around to see it.

The rest of the words flow smoothly, as if he can hear it being read aloud in his voice, though it’s little more than an echo or a whisper. 

It’s a painful dichotomy, Reid realizes, the acceptance of the man’s departure (after all, perhaps no one had experienced the sort of overwhelming losses, struggles, and triumphs that Gideon had throughout his career at the BAU- and it wouldn’t have even existed without him) combined with the refusal of the fact that he’s really and truly gone.

Not dead, though, as he reminds himself; he reminds himself of that every day, after finding the note in the cabin. Gideon’s not dead, but the metaphor of “in a better place” still holds true. And he hopes desperately that Gideon  _ is _ somewhere better, somewhere where it’s easier to breathe. 

But the guilt bubbles up inside him, the sadness of recognizing that their jobs- a career path that Gideon himself largely led Reid to- was his downfall, and he wonders if that’ll happen to him. If one day, the death and destruction will be too much for him, as it was for his mentor.

Reid always heard the whispers, mostly in jest from Garcia and JJ, that suggested he saw Gideon as more than just a coworker- as a father, a mentor, a friend. And, in many ways he did; he didn’t have much of a father of his own, and he and Hotch rarely saw exactly eye to eye. Gideon, on the other hand- Gideon was the father he had always wanted- stern, yet supportive. Someone to rely on, someone to go to when the burdens of their job became just a bit too heavy to bear. Someone who listened, even when Reid ran out of words to say. 

He wonders if he’ll ever feel that way again. Or, if he lost his chance to feel it, not once but twice, when his father walked out and Gideon followed the same escape route out of his life. 

Yet, he forces himself to try to move on (at least, in his own little ways). 

Somewhat predictably, he’s apprehensive when SSA David Rossi joins the team, even though he’s admired the man’s skills for years. And he wonders if that’s part of why Hotch chose him to fill Gideon’s impossibly-large shoes at the BAU; Rossi was someone Reid trusted, at least from a surface-level perspective. And, to his credit, Rossi had never once tried to  _ become _ Gideon. Instead, he existed as somewhat of a foil to the older man’s missing voice on the team.

They make it work, though, in Gideon’s absence. 

All of them ache from the memories of the case with Frank and Jane, and the feeling that they had once again sat silently as the actions of an unsub permeated into every aspect of their lives. And they try to forget, try to find peace in their memories of the man who made all of their jobs possible. They, even silently, think of him in every case, in every single victim they save.

Reid throws his energy into their new cases, flinches at the sound of wind chimes, and never orders a strawberry milkshake again. It would hurt too much, remembering. 

No matter what he does, though, he remembers- as he always knew he would. 

Gideon’s out there, somewhere, looking for a happy ending.

And Reid knows it’s selfish, and wishes he didn't- but it still burns him to the core, knowing that that happy ending won’t allow him to ever see him again.


	3. hotch (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hotch's departure (albeit incredibly temporary) changes the team dynamic forever, in its own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh, this is a LOT longer than i expected it to be!  
> plus, this might be the last split chapter, depending on what direction i plan to take.   
> (also, if you've been reading my other fic, you'll note that it's primarily morgan-heavy, and surprisingly, this one is a lot more reid-heavy! i hope you enjoy)
> 
> it did dawn on me (oh i'm starting to become a broken record) that this will ALSO be a part one, since hotch has a more permanent departure later in season 12, which i'll be exploring as well.
> 
> (also, it probably goes without saying, but- canonically, i'm not planning on having morgan leave the team)

###  **hotch (part one)**

Agent Aaron Hotchner suffers the first death that rocks the team to its core; his ex-wife, Haley, is killed by one of the BAU’s first unequivocally-evil adversaries.

None will forget the look on his face, painted with blood and pure agony, when they find him with George Foyet’s body.

~

Morgan is perhaps the only member of the team whose history with the Reaper even comes close to rivaling Hotch’s own. He can still hear the man’s chilling voice, echoing “Wake up Derek, it’s time to die”- and he had nearly been right.

Still, it pales in comparison to what Hotch went through at the villain’s hands. 

He’s also, unfortunately, the first to reach Hotch when he’s finished beating Foyet to a pulp on the floor of his own home- the home he once shared with Haley, and Jack, and is now only filled with the memories that he’ll never be able to erase.

Derek, too, thinks he’ll never forget pulling Hotch off of Foyet, or how Hotch stood over Haley’s dead body with such pain he feared that Hotch would die there too, lying next to the woman he’d wished he had given up everything for- and who gave her life in return. 

Every member of the team- a family, in their own right- lost something that day. Haley was one of the few “normal” people they knew, and that was rare in their line of work. And even after she and Aaron split, she had remained a constant in their circle. 

Until she wasn’t.

But the team moved forward, as best as they could. Morgan, in particular, filled Hotch’s role as the temporary Unit Chief for the BAU.

It was a moment he had hoped would be full of joy, becoming Unit Chief of the team he had served with for so many years. Unfortunately, in actuality, it felt more like a weight bearing down on him. 

This was not how he had expected it to go, and yet, here he was.

Every decision he made was accompanied with Hotch’s voice in his ear, the man’s imaginary presence over his shoulder. He wondered if he was making the right choices, taking the right cases, doing what their former Unit Chief would have wanted.

He hoped he would make Hotch proud, but really, all he wanted was for the older man to return.

All of it was weird, recognizing the paradox of it. Hotch had suffered a tremendous loss, and his life (as well as Jack’s - so much tragedy in his short years) would never feel the same. It was more than anyone should be expected to survive through, and it was perhaps almost natural for the man to want to step away from the job.

If nothing else, he deserved a break from the horrors of his occupation. 

On the other hand, Morgan knew, subconsciously, that there was no way Hotch would stay away forever. He knew the man well, and he knew how he functioned. In other words, it was highly unlikely that this leave would be anything more than temporary. 

And somehow, Morgan hated him for that, though he praised it at the same time. 

He knew firsthand what it was like to lose a parent at a young age; his father died in front of him at age 10, and though Jack was much younger (and, luckily, in another room “working the case”), he knew the toll it would take on the young kid. Jack needed his dad, and in more than just a temporary capacity. 

But he also knew that, if Hotch stayed away from the team, he could grow to resent Jack (as pitiful as that sounded) for being the reason he stepped away from his work. And that would cause even more harm than good to the young boy. 

In this situation, there really were no winners. 

Morgan found himself turning to Reid, more and more, as both a voice of reason and a place of comfort in their changing lives. It was complicated, and easy at the same time- his new role had eliminated any other hopes of a personal life, but somehow, with Reid, it had become a new tradition, formed in the loss of everything else he considered normal. Reid had found his way into Morgan’s life, step by step along the way, and though it had been an unexpected change, it was welcomed all the same. 

So Morgan continued his role as acting Unit Chief, and prayed he made the decisions that Hotch would’ve made. He prayed that, during his time away from the team, Hotch and Jack would begin to heal. He prayed that Jack was young enough to forget the bad, and still hold onto the good memories he shared with his mother.

And above all else, he prayed that when the older man returned, there would still be enough humanity left within him to allow him to be as skilled of a profiler- and teammate, father, and friend- as he once was. 

~

Reid had spent so many hours profiling George Foyet and poring over his case files as the Reaper; so, when they found him dead on the floor in Hotch’s former home, it didn’t feel like much of a victory. 

That, combined with the devastation it wreaked amongst their team, made everything that much worse. Reid was comfortable with his job, knowing that the good they were able to create helped to outweigh the bad that lay in its wake.

This time, it didn’t feel like the scales had been tipped in their favor.

It was the perfect storm, as it were- though he despised the metaphor- he himself had just been shot, and though he had dealt with on-the-job injuries before (a certain anthrax-related incident certainly sat at the forefront of his mind), this one stuck out among the rest. Meanwhile, the team had finally started to feel like a complete unit- their hesitations over Emily Prentiss had long since been forgotten, Rossi had surrendered much of his isolated thought process in favor of the efforts of the team, and they had all joyously celebrated, less than a year prior, the birth of JJ’s son, Henry- and Reid, in particular, had been blessed with his new title of “godfather.”

And at the same time, one killer had haunted them across state lines and ultimately caused them to be destroyed from the inside out. 

Luckily, Reid had not been one of the members of the team to see Haley’s body; he knew, with how close he had grown to Hotch- viewing him as somewhat of a surrogate father figure, especially following Gideon’s departure from the team- in recent months, that that image would be seared too deeply into his brain to ever be erased.

But there wasn’t much hope of that anyway; he read the reports, and he knew too many details to be blind to the immeasurable pain Hotch was facing.

And though the team moved on- they had little choice to do much else, situated under Strauss’s tight gaze- it wasn’t quite the same. The loss of Gideon had been painful, without a doubt, but Hotch had picked up the slack.

Now, without either one of their original leading profilers, and the responsibility of the team falling on Derek’s (albeit very dependable) shoulders, everything felt a little bit off-kilter.

_ I suppose _ , Reid mused,  _ that’s how I found myself brainstorming profile theories and studying old cases with Morgan every Friday night, from 7pm until mid-morning the following day. _

Though Morgan had taken on the temporary Unit Chief role with pride (and more fear than he’d admit to anyone besides Reid), there were certainly still many uncertainties about the future of the team. It was a comforting feeling, for Reid, amid all the instability, that his best friend wanted his help learning the intricacies of their past cases from a leadership perspective. 

The two men had grown closer, especially in recent years. Reid wasn’t quite sure when it started- probably around JJ’s maternity leave, but likely even earlier than that- but he was grateful for the newfound friendship. It was comforting, really, that they had developed their bond- in the wake of Hotch’s absence, everyone was feeling unsteady- and Morgan’s growing presence in his life lessened the painful winds of change. 

So, Morgan bought beer, and Reid brought pizza (or Thai, or Indian, or whatever suited their fancy that weekend), and they spent every Friday night on the floor in Morgan’s home, surrounded by case files, takeout containers, and Derek’s hyperactive German Shepherd mix, Clooney. 

Most of their conversations revolved around cases; after all, Morgan had spent most of his early years on the BAU team as the go-to “breaking down doors and busting up fights” member, and though he had leadership skills of his own, it wasn’t the style the team was used to. And Reid was perhaps the best resource that he had to learn how to emulate Hotch’s authority, without mirroring it too precisely. 

There were, of course, many things they didn’t say- at least, not regularly. They rarely spoke about Hotch’s departure, or speculated about his hopeful return. They also shied away from their own personal lives, though it was obvious- now that they spent nearly every Friday night together- that neither had much going on in that department. 

But somehow, it just sort of worked. 

Reid thrived knowing that his voice was being heard and valued by Morgan, and Morgan relished in the knowledge that, even in this informal setting, he wasn’t being scrutinized for his ability to lead.

Put simply, they spent each Friday night in “full disclosure.” No lies, no deceptions, just the good old-fashioned facts and figures that Reid had built his foundation on. That foundation had suffered its fair share of destruction, construction, and reconstruction, but somehow, those Friday nights helped him hold it all together.

And though it rarely reached the surface, for either one of them, there were a few nights that the case files were not as much of a successful distraction that either one of them had hoped for, and the pain bubbled up past their heavily-guarded barriers. 

When it happened (though likely, both would deny it if they were ever asked), they found their solace within each other. 

First, through words. 

Reid was typically the first to admit it, when it all became too much to repress and defend against it a façade. It usually came out all at once- the first time stuck in his head above every other.

_ “Morgan?” he had asked, hoping against his better judgement that the older man would hear the shakiness in his voice.  _

_ Luckily, Morgan had known him long enough to note the smallest of alterations to the status quo. “Kid, what’s wrong?” _

_ “I just… so many people are dying, and we can’t move fast enough to stop it. I mean, on any given day, about 44 people are murdered. And we only take about one case a week; those are  _ negligible  _ odds, and there’s basically nothing we can do to stop it, so even when we’re saving people, we’re still standing by as so many people just  _ die _ , you know?” Reid couldn’t stop his hands from trembling, and Morgan reached out to cover them with his own. _

_ “Hey, hey, pretty boy, breathe with me. I know, I know it feels almost impossible, but we just have to trust that we’re doing as much as we can,” Morgan soothed, though he blushed a bit at the warmth of Reid’s hands against his. “Plus, with you here with me, maybe we can find a way to speed up the process _ .

It started with those talks, though they happened infrequently. But soon, it progressed to the gentle touches that they both somehow craved- fingers intertwined, shoulders bumping up against the other’s, and, eventually, more.

Reid still remembered the first time they kissed, and how it surprised him to no end.

_ They had finally learned that Hotch would be making his return to the team, only a week later. Morgan had been surprised, nervous, but more than just a little relieved. His job as a profiler was strenuous enough, and tacking on the Unit Chief title had done nothing to lessen the pressure.  _

_ Their Friday-night tradition hadn’t wavered, though. So they found themselves picking through Chinese takeout boxes, trading bites of Mapo tofu (Morgan’s surprising favorite) and Kung Pao chicken (Reid’s meal of choice).  _

_ It had been a lighter week, both in terms of case numbers and the content of the cases. Both men were enjoying the relaxation that their Friday night plans brought them, even though JJ, in her own way, had teased them both about skipping out on the rest of the team’s trip to the local bar for drinks and dancing. _

_ No matter, though- both were where they wanted to be. _

_ As they did on the easier nights, after poring over cases, they had turned on Morgan’s flat-screen television and found something to watch- the shows itself didn’t matter, but the background was comforting as both men talked about whatever struck their fancy.  _

_ This time, however, as they leaned against each other on the large couch, something new was stirring under the surface. And when the show gave way into a commercial break, instead of getting up to toss out their trash, Morgan leaned over and gently kissed Reid- to the unadulterated shock (and, admittedly, unabashed excitement) of the younger man. _

And though they both wondered if it was just temporary, some sort of emotional-stimuli reaction to the stress of their shared careers, it quickly proved to be anything but.

That was the first night that Reid spent the night at Morgan’s, instead of leaving early during the morning hours of the next day. They spent the evening talking about everything that both had been hesitant to say, and somehow, it just seemed to work.

So, when Hotch’s return was only one day away, and the pair promised to keep their budding relationship a secret until the time was right, they both knew-

Even if things never went back to the way they were- before George Foyet (literally) cut a hole into their team- things would still find a way to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thrive off of comments and feedback !!


	4. jj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> without you there's no reason for my story // and when i'm with you i can always act the same  
> (you and i - anarbor)
> 
> jj is the heart and soul of the bau, and with her gone, it beats a little bit differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first non-split chapter, and most likely, they'll all be combined from here on after. i know that this chapter veered far away from just a reflection on jj's departure from the team, but i think that, given the nature of her leaving, this was the right path to take.
> 
> i hope you're all doing well. if you're reading "and after" (my other reid/morgan work) you'll know that i'm not holding up so well, but i'm trying my best. writing has been somewhat of a salvation.
> 
> as always, i live for comments and feedback.
> 
> next up is emily (part I and part II). if you thought these first few chapters were emotional, you just wait!

###  **jj**

Agent Jennifer Jareau’s path as a federal agent was different than most; she lacked the immediate draw to law enforcement shared by most of her coworkers, and her initial expertise was in communication, rather than investigation.

But she grew into her role, and thrived in it, especially after the birth of her son. Henry was a light that shone through the darkness of her career, and her love for him made her a better agent as well as a stronger person.

So, when she was courted- though with a certain lack of consent- and re-assigned to the Department of Defense no one quite knew what to think.

She was their constant: their rock, amidst every evolution and transformation of their team, until she wasn’t.

And though she wasn’t gone, not for good- not really, anyway- none of them had much of a chance to say goodbye. 

It’s not like any of them would know what to say, anyway.

~

Derek has become accustomed to change, almost numb to it. And to some degree, he was happy for JJ; she had often been overlooked because of her title as the Communications Liaison, and he knew she deserved far more credit than she had been given.

Reid, however, didn’t share the same perspective.

Understandably, JJ’s transition away from the BAU team hit him hard, even harder than he let on. His friendship with the blonde had always started off incredibly strong- and if anyone could survive past Reid’s awkward flirting before he “found his legs” on the team, so to speak, they were certainly a keeper. 

She was his first real confidante on the team, and though she had feared the worst (not only for his life but for the tension of their eventual reunification) when Reid had been taken by Tobias Hankel after his ill-fated capture and torture, they had only grown closer despite it. 

_ But she left _ , Reid acknowledged bitterly.  _ They always do. _

It was a cruel way of thinking, and even he felt uncomfortable with his own subconscious’s perspective on the situation. He knew, deep down, that JJ hadn’t wanted to leave. It was the choice of their bureaucratic environment to take her away, so he forced himself to view it through that lens.

And he hoped, more than anything, that it’d be temporary, and that she’d be back. 

It helped, too, that Derek was there. His steadfastness, even in the face of so many changes (and the overwhelming feeling of loss that accompanied most of them), became his strength in JJ’s absence.

Derek had his own approach to comfort, and though it wasn’t quite the wine, movies, and godson-babysitting time that accompanied his nights with JJ, it was certainly a welcome change. Kisses and clasped hands filled a void that neither had been willing to face. 

They both mourned the loss of JJ’s presence on their team and struggled to accept her temporary replacement, Ashley Seaver- though she excelled in her own right, neither were comfortable with the feeling that she was always grappling with her role on the team (especially since  _ she  _ was now the youngest member, rather than Reid). 

As they did, as they confronted their own fears and hesitations, they began to find, within themselves, what was missing- and it wasn’t just JJ. 

Namely, Derek began to open up, far more than Reid had expected.

Their relationship had been built on trust, and it was a strong foundation, but much of it revolved around Reid beginning to trust Morgan. The younger man hadn’t been in a relationship before, not a romantic one anyway, and he was used to having his emotions played like a pawn against him. Even when Morgan kissed him, that night so many months ago, his first thought (after the initial shock) was,  _ is this real? _ His subconscious was quick to doubt anyone’s ability to care for him, after such a repetitive history of neglect. But it wasn’t temporary, and it was certainly real.

So real, in fact, that Reid had become comfortable enough to hold Morgan’s hand on the jet to and from cases. They didn’t speak about it overtly, besides their unreasonably-uncomfortable discussion about “office fraternization policies” with Hotch that ended with Derek erupting in laughter and Reid flushing so red he matched the walls of the round-table room.

Derek, in contrast with his partner, was an open book, at least on a surface level. It was below that, in the deeper recesses of his trauma, that his thoughts were defined by padlocks rather than open doors. 

That changed, though, when JJ left. 

It wasn’t solely because of her, though; the case that triggered her departure, in L.A. with the “Prince of Darkness” Billy Flynn, had been tumultuous for Morgan. He himself had been attacked, and was rendered immobile and defenseless by it as Ellie was taken. Watching her be abducted by Flynn had ripped him to pieces, and even when they safely got her back, it was only due to JJ’s impassioned words and Morgan’s violent execution of the unsub. 

That was one of the first times that, in his job, Morgan felt truly helpless.

And as the feeling burrowed deep under his skin, he came undone. 

Morgan had shied away from that, even though he trusted Reid implicitly. Spencer had always listened to him, been patient with him, and done everything he could to make the older profiler feel safe. 

But unraveling such ingrained habits of stoic solitude took more than just safety.

It took love, and luckily, Reid had plenty of that to offer.

Often, they found themselves sprawled on Reid’s floor atop blankets- as the man’s couch was narrow and not conducive to cuddling between two tall adults- with old episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation playing on the TV above them. The television show served little purpose than as background noise, but in that role, it succeeded. As the show played, Morgan talked, and Reid listened.

This dynamic was new; Reid was always the “talker” in their relationship, and though he had feared Morgan resented his perpetual babbling at first, he had quickly learned that the older man  _ loved _ listening to him talk. In a way, it helped to drown out the uncertain words that surfaced in his own mind. 

The words couldn’t stay inside forever, though. So Morgan, working against his heavily-ingrained habit of keeping his thoughts within, let himself speak. First about his feelings towards JJ’s departure, and Hotch’s before that, and Gideon’s and Elle’s even earlier. Their shared losses drew them together, and soon, the safety that Reid felt with Morgan became mutual on Morgan’s side.

Somehow, though, JJ leaving the team also served as a catalyst for his reflection on the past. Before he joined the team, and before he ever worked in law enforcement. Perhaps it was her motherly presence, or her perpetual optimism in the face of violence.

Or, maybe, it was his memory of her face in the Chicago P.D. hub, determined to uphold his innocence as even Hotch doubted him. That stuck with him, through everything. 

Four years, nine months, and eleven days after Hotch and Gideon learned about Carl Buford’s abuse, Morgan told Reid.

Of course, the younger man already knew. Neither Hotch or Gideon had ever discussed it explicitly, as they knew too well the pain of revealing another man’s secrets. They- Hotch in particular- had hoped Morgan would tell the team, if not only to begin to break down his heavily guarded walls. He never did, though. He hoped that the memory of Chicago would fade in all of their minds, even if it never could in his own. 

But Reid was perceptive.

Even then, so early on, Morgan was his best friend.

Spencer leaned up against the back of the couch, allowing Morgan to have space not only to breathe freely but to not feel smothered by his lover’s presence. The older man tried- and failed- to start the story from the beginning, but Reid was patient.

He had waited years to be able to love Morgan, and be loved back, and he would endure all that was necessary to never lose hold of that love.

Eventually, Morgan found the words. And God, it hurt Reid to hear it, almost as much as it hurt Morgan’s own throat (laced with unforgettable memories of those nights at the cabin) to say.

Morgan spoke about his father, watching the man be shot in front of him, and how that initial loss felt like a dam breaking, allowing his suffering to permeate every inch of his being. He told Reid about his sisters, and his mom, and how he could never forget the disappointment in his mother’s eyes when he was arrested as a teen. He talked about his love for football, forever tainted by the pain of his teen years but still so important in his young life.

And, after hours of silence, a break for fettuccine alfredo and garlic bread, and more-than-enough gentleness from his lover, Morgan spoke about Carl Buford. 

More than anything, Morgan remembered the shame. Not just of his early struggles with his sexuality but how every element of his youth had been exploited by the man, who he trusted more than anyone after the death of his father. Buford had changed him, irrevocably, and for most of the years that followed, Morgan was certain that the change had devastated him, reduced him to a shell of a human being.

It was only until he returned to Chicago and was finally able to get some semblance of justice for the boys Buford had assaulted, abused, and killed, that he realized.

The change had, for lack of a better word,  _ changed  _ him. He had lost his ability to trust, to feel anything other than anger-driven determination for so long afterwards. But he knew, now, that it had also led him to join the police force and the FBI.

He had told Buford that the man “had everything to do with making him who he was.” And it was true. Carl had shattered him to pieces, and yet somehow, he found the strength to be reborn.

Lying in Reid’s arms, truths told and words of love exchanged, over and over, he knew that he was, finally, whole again.


	5. emily (part i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the joy and the chaos, the demons we're made of // i'd be so lost if you left me alone   
> (hold on - chord overstreet)
> 
> emily dies, her blood staining morgan's skin. he doubts he'll ever feel clean again, not really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, this one hurt to write (especially since i was rewatching season 6 during it). i know i changed around some of the events (especially jj's return to the team) but it worked better with the flow of the story. 
> 
> also, next up will be emily (part ii). i didn't realize it, but she leaves twice before anyone else does. hopefully, that one won't hurt quite as bad!
> 
> as always, i love your comments and feedback.
> 
> l'shana tova to all of my fellow jewish friends!

###  **emily (part i)**

Agent Emily Prentiss was a lot of things (her numerous aliases certainly substantiated that claim), a lot of mysteries all wrapped up inside one person.

When she died, those secrets perished with her.

And, as her heart stopped beating, a piece of every member of their team died too.

~

Morgan held Emily’s hand as she died.

Such a simple gesture, one he’d shared with her before in times of stress and need, but never with this level of finality. 

He held her hand, gripped her fingers and prayed that his own strength would somehow supplement her own; he was one of the last people to touch her, aside from the onslaught of medical personnel that surrounded her almost immediately. He felt the life leave her body, as the blood poured out of every wound and pooled around her weakened form. And yet somehow- despite that physical closeness- when she died, he felt like he was a million miles away from everything in the world.

But it didn’t help, certainly, that his mindset only hours earlier had centered on his frustration with Emily because of her careful secret-keeping. He knew it had been a protective measure, not only for herself (and her past) but for the team as well. So he couldn’t exactly fault her for that- it might’ve been the easier option, sure, but they had known each other for too long, and too well, for him to let his mind drift into such a conflicting perspective.

It was a confusing thing, to be caught between the dog and the wolf as he acknowledged her death. He wanted to hate her for putting them in danger and taking herself out of the equation; but he loved her, just the same, for that ferocious intensity that kept her fighting to the very end.

And even as he pondered the events that preceded her death, he wasn’t sure exactly what side he was on. 

His thoughts raced, rendering him unable to sit down in the hospital waiting room next to the rest of his team. So instead, he paced, hoping that eventually, his fatigued body would give up and allow him some sort of respite; God knows, his brain wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

As he walked, though, his eyes were drawn to his young lover, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest and rocking slightly back and forth. Reid didn’t handle events like this well- but given the circumstances, none of them were holding it together spectacularly- and, in this moment, he likely needed Morgan’s support more than anything.

So it ripped him to pieces knowing that he just  _ couldn’t _ be what his partner needed, not right now. He had too many of his own demons to wrestle with inside.

Morgan was grateful, then, that Garcia could fill the role of Reid’s guardian angel. He noted, as the other blonde stood off to the side, that his own slight apprehension towards JJ had been heightened. Her return was uncertain, and as it intersected with Emily’s death, he wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with her.

But there was enough tragedy to go around, so he pushed the feelings down. Her presence was needed, especially for Reid. It killed him knowing that his own insecurity was what held him back. After all, though, this night had involved too much bloodshed.

His own figurative death, rotting from the inside out, was the least of his worries.

When he  _ was _ able to calm his nerves, at least to allow him to sit down, it wasn’t in the chair next to Reid. If he had, he probably would’ve broken down completely, the thoughts of his lover’s fully-exposed grief contributing to his own.

The younger man, however, was already mid-breakdown, as evident by his nervous trembling and frenetic hand motions, though he kept silent aside from the muted muttering under his breath. Morgan yearned to just reach out and take him into his arms, but he was almost certain his legs wouldn’t support him.

Or, more likely- if he wrapped his arms around Reid now, in this moment, he doubted he’d ever be able to let go. 

So he sat next to Garcia, and she sat next to Reid. 

And when Reid stood, unable to contain the turmoil boiling within, Morgan was helpless, frozen in his chair.

Tears rolled down his face as he watched his lover leave, ripped to pieces by his own grief and inability to mourn their fallen teammate in the ways that he wanted. He knew that Reid needed him to say something- say  _ anything _ \- to silence the onslaught of statistics that filled his brain and outweighed his ability to feel. 

He wished that he could give Reid that. 

But there would never be enough words to say.

~

Days passed, and then weeks, and then almost a month. Prentiss was gone, and only her headstone remained. The grassy ground surrounding it had been worn down by heavy foot traffic, shared primarily by Reid and Garcia when they came to visit her every few days.

Morgan only went once.

He had stood over her grave, frozen in place just as he had when she died. It was cruel, seeing her in this way; he was reminded of how he stood over the anonymous boy’s grave back in Chicago, and how he felt somewhat at peace knowing that he had been able to lay him to rest.

This wasn’t a serene moment, though. This was one of anger, and uncertainty, and remorse; he doubted he’d ever be able to see her name (whether written on paper or engraved into the grave marker) without those feelings capturing him like the winds of a tornado. 

So he went once, and never went back.

Even when he drove Reid to the cemetery, to pay his respects and keep Emily apprised of everything that happened in the BAU, even in death, Morgan stayed in the car, waiting.

Reid never was quite the same person before the cemetery trips as he was afterward.

Those days, after Morgan took him to the cemetery- though he had physically recovered, for the most part, his hands still shook too much to drive when he thought about Prentiss- they stayed inside for the rest of the evening. Morgan would try to talk to Reid about his visit to Emily’s grave, but they both knew it was probably more for Derek’s benefit than the younger man’s own.

He couldn’t go see her, not after the first time, but he never wanted her to think he had forgotten her.

No, he could never forget. Not even if it was easier for him, not even if he wanted to.

Reid, to his credit, had tried to support Morgan through it, giving him statistics about the multi-layered effects of loss on the brain and how it manifested differently in every subject. And it did help, a little bit. 

Maybe, though, it was just nice to have Reid’s voice comforting him.

The younger man was not without his share of internalized strife, though his thought process took on a more traditional form of the “5 stages of grief.” He struggled in his own way, though after the case surrounding the paranoid and insomniatic schizophrenic in Portland, it reached a far-too dangerous precipice, and even Morgan couldn’t help the man as much as he wanted to.

_ “Pretty boy- Reid, please, open the door!” Morgan pleaded against the locked bathroom door. Reid had shut himself inside almost immediately when they returned from the case, and there was little to no sound coming from inside the room. _

_ This wasn’t good; it was far from it, and Morgan felt more helpless than he had since- well, since Prentiss had died. His lover had been overwhelmed by the events of the case, and the memories of his childhood that it had dredged up, and Morgan knew he couldn’t possibly understand what the man was going through, not specifically. _

_ Although, he did know what it felt like to be uncomfortable in his own skin. _

_ That wasn’t his only worry, though. On the plane ride home from Washington state, he had noticed Reid’s narrow fingers trending frequently towards the crooks of his elbow, to where the long-since-faded track marks of years prior still lurked under the surface. This case had weighed too heavily on his lover’s shoulders, especially after Prentiss, and he knew how its events would bring those thoughts of craving the drug, the release of Dilaudid flooding his veins, back to the surface. _

_ In this moment, though, Morgan was helpless. He knew that breaking down the door into Reid’s bathroom wouldn’t help; it’d likely only make the younger man feel more trapped, more likely to lash out. Though, no, it was more likely Reid would lash  _ in _ and punish himself rather than cause any harm to Morgan. _

_ Regardless, he knew he had to do  _ something _ , so, as he wished a silent prayer that Reid wouldn’t hate him for this in the morning, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and shot off a quick text to JJ. _

Hey, sorry to bother you, I know it’s late- can you come over? Reid’s locked himself in the bathroom and I think he’s craving again. Please…

_ Her response was immediate:  _ I’ll be right there. Don’t panic.

_ He almost wanted to laugh at that; she knew, as well as he did, that he was already past the point of panic, but he forced himself to hold it together. Luckily, JJ had her own key to Reid’s apartment, so it was only a matter of time until she let herself in and “saved the day,” as it were.  _

_ Until then, he kept his shoulder pressed up against the door and hoped it would be enough. _

_ “Reid, baby, please- let me in? I just wanna help,” he said. It felt like it had been hours, though he was certain only a few minutes had passed. And, in the midst of it, he heard the door unlock from the other side, almost silently. _

_ Morgan jumped to his feet instantly, opening the door wide enough to allow himself in. _

_ The sight that greeted him was chilling, and he couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to his eyes.  _

_ There Reid sat on the dark blue bath rug, his sleeves pushed up messily and small beads of blood forming at the surface of scratch marks on his forearms. The man’s face was tearstained and red, as if embarrassed to be seen in this position.  _

_ Derek was just glad that JJ hadn’t yet arrived. _

_ He crouched down, hoping that Reid wouldn’t be too distracted by the older man’s tears. The only saving grace from the otherwise soul-destroying moment was that, through the bloody tissues that Reid held to his arms, Morgan could tell that there were no needle marks. Which, after all, made sense- he and Reid had dumped out the remaining bottles of Dilaudid years ago, as a celebration of sorts when Spencer had reached 2 years clean. He no longer needed them as place-holders in his addiction. _

_ It was a small miracle, knowing that at least, Reid hadn’t relapsed in that way. _

_ The self harm wasn’t exactly  _ better _ , but it was preferable to the withdrawal period of the drugs.  _

_ Morgan held him tightly as tears fell from both of their eyes. And, moments later, when JJ entered the apartment, her short gasp was the only thing that jarred him out of the haze of the situation. _

_ “Oh, God,” she exhaled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Reid’s sweating scalp. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” Over the top of Reid’s head, she and Morgan exchanged a look, and he hoped that the slight relief in his eyes would reassure her that, if nothing else, at least Reid hadn’t slipped up and used the drugs again. _

_ It wasn’t much, but it  _ was  _ something. _

_ JJ moved efficiently, helping Morgan place tight bandages on the half-moon shaped marks on Reid’s forearm. When the blood had been wiped away, he knew that the wounds had formed by the young man pressing his fingernails deep into his skin. He had observed his lover do something similar before, but never to this degree. _

_ Regardless, as they covered up the marks, Reid seemed to emerge from his almost-catatonic state. “JJ?” he asked, noticing the woman’s presence in the bathroom for the first time. _

_ “Hey, Spence, it’s me. Morgan just needed a little bit of help getting you all fixed up, okay? How’re you feeling?” _

_ “Bad” was his answer, and that seemed to sum up the collective mood of the evening. The three of them pressed on, though, and once Reid was cleaned up, Morgan helped get him settled into bed. _

_ Minutes later, JJ had left, and the two men were left alone, with nothing but their thoughts and each other to fill the silence. Reid stayed quiet, and Morgan wrapped his arms around him, clinging tightly to the man as if he couldn’t bear to let go. _

_ It was probably true, honestly. _

The same events had occurred twice more, though with less intensity. Morgan considered them lucky that Reid hadn’t actually attempted to get any Dilaudid or similar drugs, and though he wanted to avoid any other incidents of self harm, it became more manageable as time passed.

It was inevitable, really, for them to begin to forge ahead, though that didn’t make it hurt any less.

But they did. Reid got back into playing chess- beating Morgan was easy, and enjoyable, because he got rewarded with kisses for every win. And Morgan continued to renovate his latest project, though he wouldn’t go unless he could convince Reid to accompany him.

Being alone just wasn’t working for either one of them, so they didn’t. 

They stuck together, and that’s probably what Emily would’ve wanted.

Reid still sometimes referred to her in the present tense, though his knowledge of the events- and persistent adherence to grammar- forced him to correct himself quickly. Morgan had modified his language immediately, and even in his thoughts, he was beginning to heal from it. 

Having JJ back on the team, at least, made it easier- for both of them.

Morgan started talking to Reid about how he felt that night, accompanied by repeated apologies for not being able to comfort the younger man in the ways that he knew he needed. He wasn’t much of a “sharer” in terms of feelings, but Reid was always the exception to that rule after all. 

And, eventually, sitting at their round table for case briefings didn’t immediately prompt flashbacks of the dark-haired woman that they all mourned. They moved on. If nothing else, they had to. 

Nothing, then, could explain the feelings provoked by seeing Emily, like a ghost risen from the dead, standing in the doorway.

She was back.

But would she ever be the same?


	6. emily (part ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> second time's the charm, right?
> 
> (song inspiration: of our new day begun ~ omar thomas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one, for the first time, wasn't actually too sad! i'm happy with the ending, though i still hate how emily left the show this time.
> 
> i know it's been a while since i posted- things have been rly hard- but i'm hoping to write more soon.  
> as always, i love your comments and feedback, and i'm reachable on twitter at @hlstarlight if you ever want to chat.

###  **emily (part ii)**

Agent Emily Prentiss, as miraculous as her return to the BAU team following her perceived death, never truly found her spot on the team the second time around. After all, how could she? 

No one goes through what she went through and comes out the other side even  _ remotely  _ unscathed. She died- it was just for show, of course, but when you watch your friends mourn for you and write you out of their lives, those feelings don’t ever really fade. 

So, when she slowly drifts away from the joyous celebration of JJ and Will LaMontagne’s (much-awaited and anticipated) wedding, it’s not exactly a surprise. She had other offers to consider- Interpol was too good to pass up; and though she had rebuilt her friendship with Morgan, and helped Reid to forgive JJ for her steady stream of lies (albeit, justified and necessary ones) in the recent months- it all just felt like a broken teapot held together by tape and glue.

Mourning Emily Prentiss the first time was painful, unbearable- but they got through it by understanding  _ why _ she died (for lack of a better term), and by avenging her death. That anger kept them fighting, kept them holding on to the good memories and working fiercely towards tangible and crucial goals on and off the job.

When she leaves the second time, though.

It’s quiet.

And that silence, as much as it starts to hurt, is more closure than they ever thought they’d have. 

~

The wedding (and its accompanying afterparty) was a celebratory occasion, particularly following the harrowing events of the case that preceded it- and Morgan’s unenjoyable encounter with Strauss. Both Reid and Morgan were relishing the opportunity to get dressed up and “let their hair down,” as it were.

Plus, there was no way Reid would pass up an opportunity for more magic tricks with his godson, Henry. Morgan never felt prouder, at least when it came to his lover, than in the moments he got to spend watching him interact with JJ and Will’s adorable son.

It was, as expected, a beautiful event; Rossi certainly went all-out in his decorations and preparations for the wedding, and they expected nothing less. They all cried at the vows (Morgan included, though he stealthily attempted to wipe away a tear or two), enjoyed slices of the cake that cost more than  _ any  _ of them were willing to accept, and quickly found themselves living it up on the dance floor surrounded by moonlight and candles.

And though Morgan and Reid were typically careful to keep the inner-workings of their relationship private from the team, though they had become less strict about it recently- losing and regaining Prentiss had rocked Reid to his core, so he was a little less guarded in the wake of her return- they weren’t particularly subtle as they clung to each other as soft, romantic music played through the carefully-placed speakers.

“This is… nice,” Reid whispered into the side of Morgan’s head. “Thank you.”

His graciousness towards his lover was endless and often unspoken; Morgan knew that Reid had been incredibly concerned about his near-miss with the unsub only days earlier, so the words held more weight than usual.

Morgan pulled his lover almost-impossibly closer as they swiveled in place, and he met Garcia’s adoring gaze with his own eyes over Reid’s shoulder. “Always, pretty boy,” he murmured. “And hey, it’s pretty sweet to finally see these two crazy lovebirds get married, huh?”

That at least elicited a chuckle from his sensitive partner, whose long fingers slowly became intertwined with his own. “Yes, but I doubt JJ’s going to ever give up her last name for him. She’s too much of a ‘feminist-power-icon’ for that, I think.”

“Plus, ‘JM’ doesn’t have quite the same alliterative impact of ‘JJ,’ now does it?”

The two settled into a comfortable swaying rhythm, watching their teammates and friends dance closely to them on the improvised dance floor. Garcia and Kevin had made up for the event, and her sparkling dress glimmered under the lights strung overhead. JJ looked gorgeous in her dress, and Will looked like the happiest man on earth to have been able to finally put a ring on her finger. Meanwhile, Hotch had finally brought Beth to a BAU team function, and she fit in swimmingly as Rossi poured her another glass of red wine.

Everyone was, truly, at peace. Reid couldn’t remember the last time it had felt this easy, being around all of them at once. Emily certainly had something to do with it, but he knew the situation with her was as precarious as ever.

Almost as if she had read his mind, he felt her presence to his side as she stepped up to the lovers, placing her hand on Morgan’s bicep. “Might if I cut in, Der? I think I’d like to steal a dance with the resident genius over here.” Her tone was as jovial as ever, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Regardless, Reid unlinked his hand from Morgan’s and pulled Emily in closer as the music shifted to an acoustic guitar melody. 

As the pair began to dance- though with Reid, it was typically more “stepping from side to side” rather than actual dancing- Morgan went to make himself another drink. He couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on his partner, though, and wondering what exactly the two were discussing in such hushed tones.

“You’re taking the job, aren’t you?” Reid’s question is blunt, and though that approach has caused some contention in their relationship, Emily’s never been more glad for his straightforward approach.

“Ah, you and Morgan have been talking behind my back, haven’t you?” She looks up at him, and Reid’s cheeks cloud with a hazy blush. “I know, I know, I just gave you my answer by responding with another question. I’m sorry.” Emily hasn’t confirmed it, not exactly, but Reid’s smart enough to know what she’s saying via what she’s  _ not  _ saying.

An IQ of 187 isn’t exactly necessary to recognize that Emily’s had one foot out the door since the minute she arrived back from Paris.

“I, uh, I figured,” is Reid’s measured response. “It’s going to break Morgan again, you know that?”

Well,  _ that’s  _ not the response Emily had expected. She had prepared herself for Reid to be upset, or confused, or surprised (though that middle one didn’t seem all too likely, knowing him) but he’s rarely on the defensive, even when his lover is concerned.

“Reid…” she whispers, and she can feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she averts her gaze from his steely one. “I’m sorry.”

“Em, it’s not me who’s angry, you know that,” he reassures her. “I wasn’t even angry the first time, not really- and it was more directed at JJ than you.”

That’s at least somewhat comforting, as Prentiss fights her own internalized feelings about the situation and Reid continues to explain.

“I’m over it- I understand why it happened, and I don’t blame you or anyone else now besides Doyle of course. And I don’t fault you for taking the opportunity with Interpol- you’ve worked so hard, and you deserve it so much. It’s just… Morgan  _ finally  _ feels like he has you back as his partner in the field. He cycled through all the stages of grief, and he recovered, and it’s going to set him back.”

Reid’s words are honest, but they sting like a bullet all the same.

“I know,” she sighs as they turn once again. “I’m going to grab him for a dance in a bit, I promise.”

With that, they continue to dance for a few more minutes. By now, Garcia has taken a seat next to Morgan at the bar, and Emily can tell that they’re deep in conversation. The song transitions into a slightly more upbeat tune, with crooning vocals, and Reid pulls her into his arms for a hug and looks at her with his signature meek-but-don’t-fuck-with-me gaze.

“I’ll go get him for you, just stay here, ok?” He asks, and she nods. “We’re really going to miss you, Emily. It’s been really nice to have you back, even for a little while.”

And though she anticipates that more tears will be shed soon- she can almost guarantee it- she doesn’t feel altogether sad by her goodbye to Reid. She’ll be across an ocean, sure, but she knows that if she picks up a pen and writes a letter to him, there’s no doubt he’ll reply.

There’s not much more she can ask for, given the situation.

“Thank you, Spence. I love you,” she says with a wry smile as he whispers a response in agreement. “Now go grab your hot hunk of a man for me, why don’t you?” She moves slowly in place as Reid makes his way off the dance floor, shaking off a laugh at her teasing request. 

When Reid reaches Morgan, he’s alone again- Garcia is now dancing with JJ and he can hear her complimenting the wedding dress even over the music. 

“Hey, uh, Emily wants you for a dance,” Reid says to his partner, though the older man doesn’t make any effort to get off of his stool. Instead, Reid sits next to him and reaches for the forgotten drink on the table to take a sip. “How are you holding up?”

Morgan’s eyes meet his, and though Reid’s smart- brilliant, even- he can’t quite decode the look his face displays.

“I know what she’s going to tell me, kid,” Morgan responds. Reid’s not exactly put off by the somewhat-diminutive nickname (he almost likes it, now, but he’s far more used to the affectionate pet names by this point). “I know it won’t change if I wait, but hey- can’t fault a guy from trying, right?”

Reid wordlessly wraps an arm around his partner’s shoulders, an uncharacteristically dominant gesture from the otherwise shy man.

“Her answer won’t change, you know that. And I know it’ll hurt, but it’s important to her- and to me, too. You deserve more closure than you got the first time, love,” Reid offers. It’s new, hearing him say words that are laced with such romantic ideals, but Morgan’s definitely a fan of it. And normally, he’d say “fuck it” and just kiss his boyfriend, outside world be damned, but he knows he can’t stay at the outskirts of the party for too long.

Instead, he lightly kisses Reid’s lips- tasting the hint of his cocktail there, and wishing he could linger- and summons enough energy to force himself to stand up and move towards Emily. He can tell she’s looking at him, and he fakes a smile as he reaches her.

“It’s about time you join me for a dance,” he jokes, and she laughs, though it’s short lived.

“You know…” she starts, but pauses again as they start to dance slowly to the atmospheric music. It’s getting late, and she’s already starting to get nervous about leaving- but she shoves down those feelings, at least for now.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” she leads with instead. He opens his mouth in an attempt to respond, but she continues. “It’s weird. I expected to feel ready to leave, or have an overwhelming sense of regret about this. But I don’t. I’ve been on borrowed time since I got back, you know that. I’ve barely felt alive most of the time…”

“Em, don’t,” Morgan says, and she’s afraid that his response will shift to anger almost as Reid’s did earlier. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Interpol’s lucky to have you. I just wish we could have you too.”

“Really?” she asks, and wishes she hadn’t. If Morgan is actually happy for her, she doesn’t want to ruin it by doubting him. But it’s too late for that, isn’t it?

“No, not exactly,” Morgan responds with a dry tone. “But it’s better than being pissed off. Just know that if we ever work a joint case with your division, I’m going to try to steal you back like we did with Jayje.”

Prentiss smiles, and for the first time that night, it’s genuine. “You’re really gonna miss me when you have to deal with Strauss all on your own, at least. You just can’t live without me or something like that.”

“Something like that.”

“I mean it, though, Em,” as his voice grows more serious. “I don’t want you to leave- none of us do. But listen: you’re right about the whole borrowed time thing, and I do really hope a fresh start helps.”

“Ah, Reid’s been helping you to control the ‘anger within,’ huh?” she jokes as they spin around.

“He’s really amazing, Em,” Morgan sighs. “I love him, I really do. I didn't think I could feel like this, not with the lives we live, but I do.” 

This time, when their eyes meet, it’s Morgan’s that are beginning to fill with tears.

“I really am happy for you, Morgan. You guys make a pretty perfect couple, even with all the shooting and stabbing and him getting taken by too many unsubs to count. I’m really glad you have him” she says, reaching up to wipe away his almost-falling tears off his cheek. 

“Me too.”

As they continue to dance, Emily rests her head against Morgan’s shoulder. They’re rarely this close together, but after the week they’ve had (her getting nearly blown up, plus the general danger of their unpredictable unsubs) she’s grateful for their proximity.

It hurts, though, knowing this might be the last moment they spend like this. 

The party winds down, with JJ and Will leaving first- Henry is staying with his grandmother for the next week, so they can finally get the honeymoon they’ve deserved. Beth and Hotch are quick to follow, but the rest of the team stays on the dance floor for a while.

Though Emily hasn’t verbally expressed that she’s leaving- at least not so soon- they can all feel it in the air. They’re profilers, after all.

So she drifts away, and mumbles an excuse that they all pretend to believe. 

They watch her leave and try not to worry too much. She’s strong, and fiercer than they had ever realized. As much as it hurts, they know this is for the best.

Morgan and Reid hold hands as they walk to their car, after saying their goodbyes to Rossi and Garcia. But no more words are exchanged, not this time.

Emily died once, and left them with clouds of fury and disbelief.

This time, it’s peaceful. 

And Morgan’s a fighter, always has been.

But now, with Reid, he thinks that he can find solace in Emily’s quiet goodbye. 

**Author's Note:**

> current planned chapters:  
> elle, gideon, hotch, jj, emily (both times), maeve
> 
> (please comment if you'd like to see any other character losses explored in this fic! i'm willing to write just about anything, and i always love feedback and suggestions.)
> 
> chapter length will vary.


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